


Ten Ways to Kill a Man

by quicksylver28



Category: Original Work
Genre: Lots of different way to die, Multi, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:03:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksylver28/pseuds/quicksylver28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>self explanatory really</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ten ways to kill a man

(The chronicles of a female assassin)

By Quicksylver

A little something I wrote in school. Seen from P.O.V of different people.  
PWP warning & some language.

 

Double Tap

Joel "Porsche" Mc Athy sat on his large black leather couch. His jacket was strewn over it carelessly, his shirt half unbuttoned and his belt buckle undone. His shoes lay where he had thrown them, near the door. He looked around his trendy new age apartment with weary eyes. He ran his hand through his dark brown hair and looked at his reflection in the smooth surface of the glass coffee table.

What have I gotten myself into, he thought to himself, sipping his scotch straight up. Never fuck with the mob... even though you may be the mayor's son. Not even daddy can bail you out of a quarter of a million in gambling debts. He downed the rest of his drink and reached for the bottle. Suddenly there was a knock at the door, he looked up. It came again, short and crisp. He walked to the door and opened it wide.

It was a beautiful brunette in a short leopard skin dress. "Mario sent me with a present for you" she gushed, smiling.

Joel grinned, she was hot. "Yeah, what is it baby?" he asked. Her smile disappeared as she pulled out a 44' Magnum and shot him twice in the forehead.

"This... baby"

Quietly she closed the door and walked to the elevator.

Uno

 

 

Ashes to ashes

Leland Tremoss awoke to the sound of splashing water. The stench of rubbish and something else he couldn't recognize filled his nostrils. He groaned, this is one killer hangover... but I'm used to it. Something was wrong, he remembered passing out in an alley but he felt as if he were in a shower. He was soaking wet but it wasn't water. He rubbed the liquid between his fingers. Oh shit! It was gasoline. His eyes widened.

It was then that he saw her. Her face alight from the small flame in her hand. Time went in slow motion as she flicked the cheap lighter toward him, the small case forming an arc before hitting the wet ground. He tried to scream but it was already to late.

Dos

 

No Salvation

Richard Schwarz ran his thumb over his badge. He used to be a good cop. But now he was even worse than a criminal, he was a traitor. He had washed his hands with the blood of innocents. He walked out unto the patio and looked down 30 stories to the street below. There was a sound behind him. He tensed and reached for his gun but it was on the table inside. Damn. He turned slowly.

With the bright light of the apartment behind her she looked almost angelic. Her long hair blowing in the chilling night breeze. Suddenly she hit him across the face with his heavy ceramic dog centerpiece, smashing it. His vision blurred and his heart raced as he was knocked back, leaning over the smooth railing. He reached out in a desperate attempt to regain his balance but she did nothing but watch as he finally tipped over the banister to his death.

Tres

 

Anchors away

He looked at me with terror and disbelief in his eyes. For the third time he tried to free himself from his bonds. How futile. I chained him tight, of that I am sure. He wants to know why. He keeps asking this, mixed with sobs and curses. They fall on deaf ears. I stopped listening a long time ago.

I pulled the lever and the floor opened. He was suspended above the water now. He fought vigorously to release himself from the chain that attached his feet to the huge cement block. I unhooked him and he fell with a splash, sputtering and struggling as he tried to keep his head above to water. I pushed the block off the ramp and watched as they both disappeared into the murky depths.

Cuatro

 

Lickety- split!

Oh my! the Lord is my shepherd I shall not want. All I said to the guy was that the price of cigarettes had gone up 5cents and he freaked out. And I mean postal. What was his problem anyway? I'm just a cashier in a mini mart... what does he expect? Sweet Jesus he has a gun, one of those six shooters, and now he's walking up and down waving it and talking to himself. Acting all nervous, making me nervous.

It's the ping of the register that really ticks him off and he charges for me. Suddenly she steps out from nowhere, snaps his fool neck and disappears... right into the cereal section. Just like that... lickety split! Damn!

Cinco

 

Natural Causes

Michael Pilot lay in his hospital bed, sedated. Two armed policemen stood just outside the door. Pilot was a hardened criminal who had turned state's evidence in a plea bargain. Already his former 'business partners' had tried to kill him and this time they almost succeeded. Hollow point to the left shoulder, almost took his arm off. They had pumped him full of sedative for the pain. Now he was out cold.

The two guards tipped their hats to the nurse. Wow! They thought as the tall brunette sauntered in. once inside she pulled out a syringe and drew in 10cc of air. Sticking it into the vein on the inside of his thigh, she slowly pushed all it in. Michael struggled for a while until he flat lined. The pilot had finally landed.

Sies

 

Et tu Brute...

Cory Hannah stepped into the rain, pulling his collar closer to his face. It was raining cats and dogs. Thunder boomed across the sky, lightening flashing through the dark clouds. He jogged over to where his brand new jaguar was parked, fumbling for the keys in the blinding downpour. Suddenly three men descended on him, pounding him with fists and feet until he lay half-conscious on the wet pitch. They stole the car, leaving him there.

He didn't know how long he lay like that. There was a hand on his shoulder. It was a woman. Her eyes were dark and her brown hair long and limp from the rain. He opened his mouth but no sound came. He dropped to the ground... knife to the heart.

Siete

 

Power Surge

Warren Wellington III sank back into the bubble bath and sighed. It felt so good to be bad, but so tiring. Anyway... another day, another dollar. There was a knock on the door. It was the new maid, a real looker. She had her hair in a tight bun and was wearing the cutest little maid uniform. He smiled to himself as he imagined her hair like brown silk on his pillow. She bent over him, smiling, as she plugged in his hair dryer. This gave him a chance to check out her cleavage. Nice. He smiled and she smiled. Then she dropped the dryer into the tub. Light's out.

Ocho

 

 

"One man's meat is another man's... "

Sacha Volconov stood near the door to the kitchen of his restaurant in little Odessa. Business was good, both legal and illegal. Being Russian was the best, he thought to himself, stirring his usual vodka tonic. He looked over at the new waitress; she was attractive and worked well. She had even brought him his drink today with a cute smile. He took a sip from the tumbler.

Everyday since he arrived in America he would drink a vodka tonic. It had become almost like water. Yet today it tasted different somehow. He suddenly dropped to his knees, his insides burning up. The restaurant went into a panic as convulsions rocked his body. Then he lay still, the vodka from the fallen glass soaking into the plush carpet.

Nueve

 

The trouble with trains today.

I've never been one to complain. I like the subway. It takes me to work, it takes me home. It's cheap. But toady? toady is different. This weirdo was acting like a real asshole. He elbowed me in the ribs and didn't even apologize. Well I don't really care anyway. Here's my train. There he is, talking to some woman. She's a real looker if you don't mind my saying.

I can see the lights now, and hear that ole whistle too. What the...! He jumped! The asshole flung himself right in front of the train. Wow! Everyone's screaming, this place is a zoo. Man... I wonder whose gonna have to clean that up.

Deis


	2. Chapter 2

Ten ways to kill a man: Back in business

By Quicksylver

Our fav. Fembot is back in the game with more deadly escapades. Thank you Robby! If not for you I would not have written more. Well ? here goes nothing! This story contains original characters and is purely fictional. Any similarity with real people or events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized posting is strictly prohibited.

 

 

Bits of Paper.

Jaques Victoire gazed unto a picturesque Paris from the Eiffel Tower observation deck. It had been a long time since he saw his birthplace as he had been in exile for the past twelve years in Canada. Interpol had been hot on his trail then for the church bombings in Barcelona. 

Over the years things cooled down and it was time for him to come home. The wind ruffled his white grey hair and blew the smoke of his cigarette across the deserted deck. The place was undergoing renovations but simple signs had never stopped him from doing what he wanted. 

He flicked the butt of his cigarette over the rail and watched as it disappeared. A throat cleared behind him and he spun around. A petit brunette in long frumpy overalls stood facing him.

"If you litter, you'll be bitter... when fined." She said in perfect French.

"Fuck off" he retorted, smirking at her shocked expression.

He turned back to the view but would not enjoy it for long. With both hands she lunged at him, using his surprise to press her advantage. With flailing hands he balanced on the cast iron railing before finally losing against gravity. His screams pierced the crisp Parisian air as he paid the ultimate fine.

Un.

 

I brake for no one.

Peter Wallen steered his Pontiac Firebird ™ up the steep hill with ease. Crime does pay, was his motto, and it paid well. He patted the silver briefcase that lay in the leather passenger seat, half a mil? tax-free. 

He listened smugly to the low purr of the engine. He had just gotten his wheels back from the shop today. It had taken longer than usual to get all of the bullets out. He remembered the sweet little brown haired girl who had handed him the keys. She was probably new. The Pontiac gained speed on the decline and he pressed gently on the brakes. 

Nothing happened. Panic surged through him as he repeatedly pushed on the brake pad. The world seemed to blur as he tried in vain to regain control. With a sickening crunch the front of the car wrapped around telephone pole as Wallen was thrown through the shattered windshield. As he lay on the ground his blood ran over the open silver case, turning his 'blood' money truly bloody.

Deux

 

Thar she blows!

I just know somethin's gonna happen taday. Ma second day in New York City? the beeeg apple! I can feel it in ma bones. Whoa? look at tha purdy mama in her short skirt. That's a mighty fast car she standing by, all red n' shiny like. 

Too bad she ain't stayin'. Them tall heels sure do echo in these here underground parking space though . Aw sheet! ... dropped ma keys. Hey somun's cumin'. It's a man. He sure does look rich in that fancy shmancy suit. Wait? I know him, he's that mob guy... the one out on bail. Wonder why he's getting' into the lady's car, bet he's stealin' it. 

Can't put anything above them criminals. Great day in the mornin'! It blew up! The car, went up like a big firecrack'r it did! Aw sheet! ... cracked my new windshield too. Pa's gonna kill me!

Trois

 

 

Eye of the Tiger.

Eric Swano slammed the door of his car and locked it. As he juggled the keys his briefcase fell and clattered on the stone driveway. Eric cursed. Being an attorney was not an easy job, especially when you're on the take. 

I need a vacation, he thought to himself as he scooped up the papers strewn on the stone path. Maybe I'll use some of the money to take the wife and kids on a nice trip. Maybe to the Bahamas. Something flashed in the corner of his eye and he looked up. It flashed again. 

It was a small glass circle by the looks of it. There was that flash again. He focused his vision and gasped. It wasn't just glass, it was the target lens of a sniper rifle. The weapon was held by a woman hidden in the thick foliage of the trees. 

Like the eye of a tiger she pinned him in place with the red laser, like a deer frozen in headlights. She squeezed the trigger and he was devoured.

Quatre

 

 

Depth is measured by weight.

I watch him resting, the journey had been tiring. The wind blows a strand of hair from my face and I brush it away. He is an aging man with a naïve face to disguise the evil inside. 

I hold his glasses in my hand as I use my foot to roll his stout body into the soft sand. When he is half covered he stirs. As his mind registers the situation he starts to struggle which only serves to sink him further. I step back as he reaches for me? in vain. 

The quicksand is up to his chin now. He stops writhing and just looks at me, his murderer. Soon his eyes are all I can see, then his hands? still tied in their bonds. They too disappear and I walk away. There is nothing left for me here.

Cinq

 

 

Don't feed the animals.

 Vern Mitchell did not like animals? especially cats. The way they moved, sounded, smelled, everything about them. So why was he standing on scaffolding above the Metro City Zoo's lion cage in the dead of night was probably a very valid question. 

He listened to the low grumbling of the restless lion below and cursed. If there wasn't so much money involved he would never have come. If he was one thing, he was a greedy little son of a bitch. 

He threw the butt of his cigar into the cage, hitting the huge male in the head. He giggled hysterically as the monstrous feline reared its head to roar. 

He glanced up.... a woman was standing at the ladder.

"You the contact?" he demanded. She tilted her head to one side.

"There's a law against hurting animals you know" she said softly. He shrugged.

"They're to dumb to know it anyway" he stated and she frowned.

As he watched she pulled one of the pins out of the scaffold. The plank he was standing on wobbled.

"What the hell...?" he shouted.

With horror he watched her pull out another. One more and he would fall. He started to beg as she fingered the third, unable to move lest he fall. Quickly she tugged out the last pin. Vern wobbled and fell, his terrified screams drowned out by the deafening roar of the angry lion.

Six

 

Straighten up and fly right.

Fitzgerald Gideon checked the equipment one more time then turned on the radio. Soon classic Billie Holiday crooned from the cockpit's old fm stereo. He looked out of the small glass window onto the deep blue gulf. It reminded him of the time he served in the marine core. 

He was all brass back then, patriotic to a fault. But he had also been dumb, believing that he would be treated well after serving his country so well. They had treated him alright? gave him a hand shake and a pink slip and shown him the door. Well? he would show them.

He was not going to come away empty handed. Working as a spy was proving to be more rewarding than his previous employment. He smirked to himself. Suddenly a loud beeping echoed through the cockpit and he looked down. 

The tanks were empty, all of the fuel had been dumped. But how could that be? the girl back in the hanger had assured him that the tanks were full. He checked the indicator, it was still on full. He looked closer and almost choked. 

The indicator had been jammed into position. That bitch, he sneered, turning to look for his life raft as the plane began its descent. The boat was gone too. He punched at the seat, panic rushing through his body. Finally, with one last sigh he sat back in his seat in unnatural calm. As the endless sea loomed closer he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for impact.

Sept

 

Habeus Corpus

Detective Tracy Webber looked at the body as it lay in the blood stained tub. As the department photographer snapped his pictures the tall redhead studied the scene. The victim was in his twenties, slim and pale. Not to mention the fact that he had two huge gashes along his wrists. 

Apparent suicide they called it, that was what it looked like. It was an open and shut case... at least it seemed to be. There was no motive for one. This young man was a known womanizer and the son of a prominent lawyer, he himself training to follow in his father's footsteps. 

Why would he kill himself? It was rumoured that he had a drug problem but that was most likely false, that and the report of him fighting with a mystery brunette girlfriend who no one really saw and who couldn't be found. 

A nosy tenant down the hall claimed that the girl had visited the victim three hours before he was found dead by the maid but still could not positively identify her. Nosy hag, he thought as the coroner came to cart the body away. 

He walked out into the living room and watched as the officer bagged and tagged the old style shaving blade that had been used. Webber rubbed at his tired eyes, he needed some sleep. The case was obvious? suicide. It was as simple as that. Case closed.

Huit

 

You'll catch your death...

I fiddle with the joy-stick to make the camera zoom closer. The fear on his face is priceless as he paces around the huge walk in freezer. Occasionally he would strike out, knocking over the packs of meat stacked against the walls. 

He has long given up trying to open the door. I made sure that it was tightly sealed. He's jumping from one foot to the other now, trying to stay warm. His voice is hoarse from screaming now but still he mumbles continuously. 

Time passes and still I watch him. He is huddled in a corner now, weeping. He begs now like his victims had begged before he killed them. And like him I give no answer but death. He is still now... still hunched over. Slowly I stand and walk away... leaving him to his icy hell.

Neuf

 

Banzai!

This is so much fun! I'm actually going to do it, I'm going sky diving! My friend Nicole took a full two weeks but she finally persuaded me. Wow! We in the plane now, it's sooo big. We're going up high now and the butterflies are starting to flutter. 

Nicole smiles and squeezes my hand. We are both so nervous. I look to my right, there is a man there and he is angry. He frowns a lot and is pissing every body off. I won't let him get to me though... today is too important. We're almost ready now. We stand and face the door like the instructor commands. 

The grumpy man is in front of me, grumbling something I can't hear. No matter. Nicole tickles me and we giggle. I can't wait. It's time to go and I push off, screaming; the air is so incredibly strong... like a big hand holding me up. Fear rushes through me... it's time to open the chutes. 

I pull the cord and the wind jerks me up. Nicole does the same and I give her a thumbs up. The instructor is shouting and I look down. The grumpy man's parachute will not open and he's in free fall. 

Oh my God! Pull the reserve man! He does but it won't open. I cover my eyes as he falls. When I touch down I see people gathered around him. 

The instructor tries to keep everyone calm but we all know he's dead. 

I can't believe he's dead. I'm never going parachuting again!

Dix

 

 

Hope you liked it! 

there maybe another in the works  
but i'm not sure.


End file.
